


what’s to come is still unsure

by bossassmx



Category: Shield of Tomorrow (Web Series)
Genre: Disabled Character, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Nonbinary Character, Other, Polyamory, Reflection, Spoilers, also spoilers of the entire campaign, guys i hope i finish this, pls don't read this unless you've finished the series for the love of Eric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2019-11-18 03:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossassmx/pseuds/bossassmx
Summary: Rue returns to the USS Sally Ride and Elandi reflects upon their new relationships with old friends.





	1. your true-love’s coming

      Throlo takes them to her quarters. The ship is full with a new crew that Rue doesn’t recognize and no extra room beside the brigs and both Throlo and T’Lan object to their suggestion that they sleep in the brig. Everyone is treating them with a cautiousness and a weary distance that feels all too isolating.

     “You can leave your stuff in my room.”

     That’s Throlo, gently ushering them inside with a light hand on their back.

     They don’t know how to respond. The woman before them, who wears three rings on her left hand, is- was their wife, and friend, and doctor, and something more than words could express. They settle for, “Thank you.”

     There’s a silence where Throlo sits on the bed, just looking at them.

     Elandi remains standing, hands by the sheaths at their hips, the familiar- unfamiliar weight of the D’k tahg leaves them unbalanced, not that they don’t have the muscle to right themself. (Junil would be beside themself if their host spent fewer than two hours working out every day.)

     There’s a moment then,

     “You can sleep on my bed.”

     “I can replicate a sleeping bag.”

     They speak at the same time, then stop. The situation is far too familiar, a conversation that had been had many times, a lifetime ago.

     Throlo cracks a smile. It’s the first one Elandi’s seen since they’ve boarded.

     “You’re. . . you’re just like them,” she says, a giggle breaking through their doctorly demeanor. “They always insisted on following ship conduct. They said it would be improper for two senior staff members to share a bed.”

     Soon she’s laughing, and Rue is about to join in when they see pools forming at the creases of Throlo’s eyes. They stream down into rivulets until they’re dripping off her chin, staining the blue uniform.

     Elandi doesn’t know what to do. They know what Junil would do: sit down next to their wife, wrap an arm around her shoulders, reassure the Andorian that everything would be alright, and fight anyone who had made her upset. But Junil isn’t here and all Elandi has are memories that sometimes hurt to remember and knee-jerk reactions to authority figures.

     So, they take a step closer, unsure of the limits of this new-old relationship, and place a hand on Throlo’s shoulder.

     The woman exhales a deep, shuddering breath and looks up at them. She’s still crying, but it seems to be slowing. She quickly brings up an arm to wipe at her face and a bit of blue makeup goes with it.

     “I’m sorry.” Her voice is quiet and raw now.

     “You know, I always loved your particular shade of teal.”

     It comes out without Elandi even thinking.

     Throlo grins and that look of sadness returns.

     “You know, I said I wanted to be noticed for my discoveries in the medical field, not my skin color, but you-Junil always told me I was too bright to go unseen.”

     There’s a pause and again, Elandi doesn’t know what to say.

     “You don’t have to be sorry,” they manage. “Reassociation is not advised for many different reasons, one of them being re-triggering the grieving process. It’s protocol.”

     Throlo laughs again. “I think perhaps, aside from our little polycule, Junil’s greatest love was protocol.”

     Elandi laughs too. Their first week with Rue, they had been bedridden, mind being flooded with memories that seemed too immense to belong to only one life. The highlights, though, that Elandi kept on coming back to, were years, serving aboard the USS Sally Ride with a certain teal Doctor.

     “I am sorry though,” Throlo says, the tears slowly ceasing. “I know you’re not them. You don’t deserve us pushing memories of someone who doesn’t exist anymore on you.”

     Elandi touches their face. It’s wet and they realize they’ve been crying too.

     “We never. . .” Throlo continues slowly. “We never had a chance to grieve properly. We weren’t sure if you would get another host and before we could even talk about it Qolar was gone.”

     That name hurts. It hurts and they don’t know why and they do know why. They’re 23 and have had sex and been in love, but even their faded memories of Junil and Qolar ring with a weighty verve like nothing Elandi has ever known. What they do know is that they want desperately to comfort Throlo.

     “It’s okay,” they say, unsure of the words they’re saying. “It’s not your fault.”

     Throlo nods, finally meeting their eyes.

     “That’s what Lassie always said. She said Junil was a bit of a bastard for leaving us alone,” she says, a bit of that twinkle Rue remembers in her eyes.

     Elandi laughs. “Junil is absolutely a bit of a bastard.”

     They laugh and Throlo wraps Elandi in a hug again.

     Elandi is shorter than Junil was and the physical affection is different in a good way. They think they’re maybe getting used to different in a good way aboard this ship.

     Throlo’s comm beeps and the two separate as if caught doing something wrong.

     Elandi is beset with memories, moments where the two were almost caught again and again in the holodeck by Captain Martinez. They push it away, returning to the sound of T’Lan’s voice.

     “-Called to Captain’s Quarters immediately.”

     Rue snaps up. They reach up to tap their comms and-

     Elandi shakes their head. They don’t have a communicator on them and they certainly still aren’t the security officer on this ship. They aren’t Junil.

     Throlo mutters a response to the captain and is looking at them, her professional doctor veil sliding into place.

     “Elandi? Are you alright?” And suddenly she’s the efficient scientist, not the woman who was weeping just minutes ago. Her eyes are scanning for injuries and her hand is already half-way to her hypospray.

     “Yes. Yes, Ma’am. Just a- a memory. That’s it.”

     Throlo sighs and her mask slowly falls. Her age is visible, more than ever, and despite her youthful glow, the smile lines and wrinkles are deeper than Rue remembers.

     “I have to go. If you need anything, the medbay’s doors are always open.”

     Elandi tries to grin. With Junil’s memories also came the trauma, and since joining, the sterile walls and smell of antiseptic sent more spikes of anxiety up their spine than any comfort the Academy had drilled into them. Still, they try to be polite. Not all doctors are made from the same ableist mold and Junil had done plenty of good work in Starfleet as an Admiral.

     “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander.”

     Elandi dips their head respectfully, taking a step back, giving Throlo her personal space.

     The Andorian gets to her feet, graceful as ever, and rests a hand on Rue’s shoulder, just for a moment.

     “Thank you, Elandi Rue.”

     And she leaves, the doors opening automatically before her and shutting just as quickly.

     And then, Elandi is alone. 

     They listen to the sound of Throlo's retreating footsteps, before heaving a deep sigh. Of relief? They're not entirely sure. 

     They look around Throlo’s room, for the first time really, taking it all in. 

     Junil is nearby, touching a photograph on the desk, and Elandi whirls around to ask them to go away, when they’re at the desk, holding a picture. 

     It’s a family photo, Throlo, Lassie, Qolar, and Junil, holding their children, smiling widely and squinting against the bright light of the sun on their face. They look so happy and Elandi feels like they’re tearing apart. 

     They remember that day. They remember how Throlo had pulled a tourist aside, insisting that he take a picture of their family. They had gotten quite a few odd stares, but they were so happy. They were so happy, except that wasn’t their memory. That was Junil’s memory, not their own but the difference feels minuscule, barely there, like they’re barely there, and suddenly Elandi can’t breathe. 

     Junil’s there in an instant, placing a hand on their chest. 

     “Elandi, listen to your heartbeat. Feel your chest move up and down.” 

     Elandi has their hands over their ears. They don’t know where they are, don’t know what’s happening, don’t know what to do. 

     Another set of hands gently pries down their arms. 

     “Elandi, you are real. You are not Junil. You are here.” 

     It’s a man’s voice, one they don’t recognize, but his voice is calming, and with him and Junil, they slowly return. 

     Their chest hurts, but the pain is slowly receding. 

     Elandi looks around, but the man is nowhere to be seen. 

     “Junil-” 

     Junil is also gone. 

     They exhale and run their hands through their hair. They need to get out of here. 

     They can’t join the senior staff meeting and they’ll just get more odd stares from the bridge crew. Dot would probably pick up on their anxiety and the M’Tazi hologram would only make them feel bad. 

     Holodeck it is. 


	2. trip no further, pretty sweeting

   It had been two weeks since Elandi first boarded the USS Sally Ride. Two weeks since they had met their spouses from a past life and two weeks since their whole life had turned upside down.

   They had started taking dinners with Throlo, something the Andorian had insisted upon when she found Elandi eating alone in their quarters. Most of the time was spent catching up, Elandi cooing over photos of their- Junil’s children, and Throlo recounting the years since Rue’s absence.

   That was something Elandi noted. Whenever Throlo would speak of Junil, they seemed to gloss over their passing. She spoke as if they were still alive, never mentioned the funeral, as if Junil had elected to take a planned sabbatical, rather than brutally died in crossfire.

   It was nice, in a fashion, to speak to someone who could offer some clarity to the strange memories that had flooded their head three weeks ago. Most of the visions, the recollections that had kept Elandi bedridden for days, had involved the blue woman, baking, in a medbay, singing and softly swaying her hips when she thought no one could see. Once they had arisen, surrounded by a doctor and members of the Symbiosis Commission, they knew they had to meet her.

   Throlo, though, was different from what Elandi- Junil remembered. She had gained weight, her doctor’s robes hugging her figure, and her face was marked by wrinkles that hadn’t been there in the memories. Still, meeting their wife was euphoria, like the release of some great tension they hadn’t known they were holding.

   It was just that sometimes when Throlo was speaking, Elandi would get dizzy or start to see things. They would be eating dinner and Throlo would launch into another story and Elandi would blink and it would be an hour later, or Throlo would bring up an old, inside joke and suddenly Junil would be there, in the chair where Elandi had been sitting, laughing along with their wife. It wasn’t bad, it certainly was a better payoff, getting to enjoy love from a lifetime ago, it was just difficult after a while.

   So, Elandi had been spending some time in the holodeck. They weren’t avoiding anyone. They were specifically not avoiding Throlo because her stories made Elandi feel like they weren’t real. Not at all. Besides, Elandi could stand to work out more often.

   (Whenever they were free, they always seemed to end up in the Holodeck.)

   So Elandi was training.

   They were maybe three or four hours in and they could start to feel themself growing tired.

    _Lazy_ , Junil says.

   Elandi doesn’t respond, just grips their knives tighter and slashes at the simulated attacker. They catch the hologram in the side, just as it rolls out of the way, kicking Elandi’s legs out from under them.

   They fall to the ground, landing on their back, as pain surges under their skin and their knives clatter to the floor. Immediately, they arc upward with pain, letting out an unwilling huff as the air rushes out of their lungs. They thud back to the ground, wincing at the impact.

   Before Elandi could even push themself up, they felt a sharp point dig into their neck. They tried to will themself up, to move their leaden muscles, but found themself trapped by their own exhaustion.

   Just as the hologram lifted the spear and was about to slam it down, a deep voice rang out through the room.

   “Holodeck end simulation!”

   Instantly, the projection froze, then dissipated, the room returning to glassy metals and panels. The unmoving bodies of the other two warriors Elandi had taken out vanished, along with the small pools of blood they had left behind.

   Elandi begrudgingly pulled themself off the floor, shaking sweat from their limbs as they turned to face their rescuer.

   “You aren’t allowed to use the Holodeck without safeties. It can only be done by express permission from the Captain,” Qolar snarled as he moved toward them.

   Rue felt a sudden heat, that had nothing to do with their physical exertion and perhaps a little to do with the fact that the Klingon was wearing no shirt.

   “I can do what I like,” they spat back, grimacing as they leaned over to pick up their knives.

   There was an abrupt moment of dizziness and they found themself back on the floor.

   Elandi raised their hand to rub their eyes, only to find it slick against their face.

   “You’re bleeding,” Qolar added helpfully.

   “Thanks,” Elandi shot back, raising the hem of their shirt to find a cut, the size of a tricorder. It didn’t hurt enough to feel like it cut muscle, but the blood loss seemed concerning, at least.

   Qolar kneeled down next to them, pulling out something from his belt. He placed a steadying hand on their shoulder.

   It was warm and Rue flushed, the dizziness in their head almost allowing them to lean into the touch before they could summon enough willpower to control themself.

   Qolar’s scent lingered in the air as he moved closer. He was slowly lifting their shirt and wrapping a bandage around their midsection, but all Rue could think about was leaning into him, rubbing against his neck, and pulling his hair.

   All too soon it was over and Qolar was standing a professional distance away. Perhaps more than a professional distance.

   They were still staring at his upper body when they realized he was saying something.

   “Elandi? Are you listening to me?”

   They snapped back to attention, meeting his dark eyes, crinkled in some indescribable way.

   “What?” they demanded, as they struggled to get to their feet.

   “Are you okay?” he asked and suddenly Elandi realized he was concerned. He reached out a hand, which Elandi accepted, letting the much larger man pull them up.

   “Yeah. . .” they mumbled, before remembering themself. “Yes. Thank you, General.”

   His eyebrows seemed to rise at the title, but Elandi perhaps might have imagined it. They were imagining plenty of things these past few weeks. Including hallucinations of their former host.

   Qolar _’s talking_ , Rue said.

   Rarely were the visions helpful.

   “How did you access the safety protocols on the Holodeck, Elandi?” Qolar asked.

   “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” they snarked back, eyes darting to the floor.

   “Elandi.”

   Qolar’s tone, strict and commanding, sent warm shudders down their spine.

   “How did you get into the safety protocols?”

   He spoke every word separately, pressing their importance, and Elandi felt heat flush through their core.

   “I hacked it,” Rue said, taking a calculated step forward.

   Qolar moved back, a strange expression taking his face before he very quickly covered it up. If Rue didn’t know them so well, they would have missed it, but an intense look of desire flashed across his face. They knew their cue.

   They darted forward, fist pulled back, aiming directly for his face. The feeling is so familiar and for a moment, they relish this moment of steadiness, where they can finally understand what they’re doing.

   Then Qolar catches their fist.

   His hand almost envelops theirs as he fully stops their momentum.

   Rue stumbles, then looks up to the Klingon, who slowly releases their hand. Confusion overtakes them, they pull their fists to their sides and release a set of punches.

   He dodges and takes another step back.

   Rue can’t understand why his eyes look so sad. They charge at him, moving forward with a smooth, rhythmic speed.

   He’s dodging their blows and it’s new and it’s different and Junil doesn’t ever remember him backing down from a fight, and there’s a noise in their ears and something wet dripping down their face, and abruptly they realize Qolar is yelling.

   “-nil! Stop!” His voice is loud and slowly, Rue freezes.

   Their chest is heaving and the chill of the room against their body leaves them shaking.

   “Elandi. We can’t do this.” There is a cold sense of finality in his voice and Rue doesn’t understand.

   “What do you mean?”

   They hate how their voice wavers, how desperate they sound.

   Qolar moves forward and raises a large hand to their face and wipes tears away with his thumb.

   It takes all of Rue’s willpower not to move, to back off and detach themself, to instantly sink into his touch and the familiarity that comes with it.

   “You are not Junil,” he says firmly, raising their chin to meet his deep, brown eyes.

   It takes a moment to set in.

   “Oh,” Elandi says.

   And the pressure releases.

   They crumble to the floor.

    _Hit him again_ , Junil says.

   “Elandi, I fell in love with Junil Rue.”

   He kneels down next to them and Elandi can see his eyes are red.

   “And I know you are also Rue.”

    _Kiss him!_ Junil is shouting now.

   “But you are not Junil and you are not the person I fell in love with.”

   Elandi grits their teeth, trying to push past Junil’s feelings.

   “I know that, General,” they spit out, straining against their prior host. “But my brain is telling me something different.”

   “You are young, much younger than me, and a different person from Junil,” he continued, as if unbothered by their response.

   “I know I’m different!” they snarl, as Junil continues to glare at them. “It’s just. . .”

   They trail off as they think back to the past few weeks, the dizziness and uncertainty, the actions they would never do when they were still Elandi Thorn.

   “. . . difficult.”

   Qolar nods and Junil catches scent of his musk and they strain to lean in.

   “Everything is too similar and they think they know best,” Elandi explains.

    _I do_ , Junil insists, eying Qolar’s chest.

   Elandi tears their gaze from the Klingon to the floor.

   “They're taking control?” Qolar asks.

   They slowly nod.

   “Elandi, sparring is something that Junil and I did,” he says, after a moment.

    _We did more than spar_ , Junil insinuates, their tone half offended.

   “Perhaps sparring is not something that Elandi and I do. At least until you can get a hold on this.”

   Out of the corner of their eyes, Junil huffs and slumps against a wall. When Elandi turns to look, they are gone.

   “Elandi, I want to be in your life, but we need to find a way for you to be you, not Junil when we’re together,” Qolar continued, pulling their attention back to him.

   Elandi sighed, relief slowly starting to flood their body.

   “That’s. . . I would like that very much,” they responded, as the exhaustion of the day finally began to catch up to them.

   Qolar grinned, a different smile from the raunchy smirks in Junil’s memories. It was quickly replaced by a concerned furrow of his brows, as Elandi tried to hide a yawn.

   “We can talk about this later,” he said, rising to his feet matter of factly.

   “Wha-” Elandi started, as they were scooped into the air by the much larger man.

   “I’ve spent enough time with Throlo to know when someone needs to rest,” he chuckled, cradling a hand against their upper spine.

   Elandi tried to protest but found themself yawning again. Besides, their limbs felt too heavy to move regardless.

   They watched as Qolar moved toward the turbolift, then abruptly turned away.

   “My quarters are on this deck,” he said, after an awkward pause. “You are welcome to sleep there.”

   “Okay,” Elandi yawned, all at once filled with the forceful urge to be asleep.

   After what felt like hours of walking, they arrived at Qolar’s room.

   The lights were dim and comforting to Elandi’s tired eyes.

   They were briefly cognisant of the Klingon placing them on a chair, then replicating softer blankets, as he placed his own on the floor.

   “You don’t have to do that,” Rue chimed in. “We can share a bed.”

   “It’s okay, Elandi,” he responded, a short grin crossing his face. “Go to sleep.”

   And he carried them to the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I don't know if I'm even going to finish this, but I really hope I do. I would literally die for a holiday special with the new crew 'cause I need to know more about Elandi. I don't think


End file.
